Here it was. Gull realized. The reason why this man had come. The reason he smelled like a wild animal and the normal sense of time and place was missing from his eyes. He could be sitting anywhere at any point in the day. Gull realized, and would mark it solek by what he learned about his ramify. He was a clock who kept striking the same time.
Gull glanced back at the tavern, checking. Clyve Wheat had finished playing hit song and Liddie was bringing him the traditional payment a measure of malt and a wedge of blue cheese. Gull was glad to see she had remembered the old custom. Burdale Ruff was sitting with his chair swung back against the wall so it rested on it's back two legs. Still watching. He was in imposing night. Gull reckoned, dark and big and armed, but Gull didn't think he had a pat of butter in hell's chance of defending himself against this man.
Angus Lok waited. Gull spoke.
"Happened about two months back now. Was a bad business. Family of girls, as I heard it, working the farm while their father was away. By all accounts the chimney had been causing them trouble-that s why Thurlo Pike was called in. Those bad storms last winter had cracked the flue and smoke was coming back down into the house. Of course, no one will ever know for sure what happened that night, but the magistrate from Keen rode over the day after. Said it looked as if the family was trapped inside the house while it burned and by the time they figured a way out it was too late." Unable to help himself, Gull made the sign of the Three Tears against this chest. God help them.
'The bodies were in no state to identify. Blackened bones, the magistrate said. He ordered them to be buried twenty-five feet from the house and posted a warning that no one was to enter the farm until further notice."
Gull could have said more, gone on to mention current speculation about the deaths, or the fact that the magistrate was anxious to locate the owner of the farmhouse, but he stopped himself. Something had caught his eye whilst he was speaking and the thought that formed after it set him spinning.
This man had dug up the graves. The dirt was there to see, under his fingertips. The truth was in his copper eyes.
Of course. How else could he know that one of his daughters might still be alive? He would have had to view the remains.
Gull § throat began to ache. What a life this is. What a terrible, terrible life.
Angus Lok regarded Gull with a steady gaze. He had seen Gull glance at his fingernails, watched as the revelation took place behind his eyes. "My daughter's name is Casilyn Lok. We call her Cassie. She's eighteen, tall for her age, with hair" He took a breath to steady himself, "hair the same color as your tavern maid, and hazel eyes."
"I have not seen her." Gull spoke quickly, to kill false hope. "Nor have I heard of a young girl traveling alone."
Angus Lok accepted this, unsurprised. He stood. "One day you may hear of something. If that happens send word to Heritas Cant in Ille Glaive."
"Heritas Cant in Ille Glaive," Gull repeated, anxious to show this man that he did not take the task lightly.
Sheathing the sword in a soft buckskin scabbard, the stranger gave Gull no thanks. Gull had not expected it. He was struck with the idea that this man was on a journey into hell.
And few ever made it back.
"The farmhouse," Gull said, speaking to delay him. "If the magistrate is unable to locate the owner within a year he'll claim it as revenue for the Glaive."
Angus Lok threw on his cloak and made his way toward the door, his last words to Gull Moler, "Let them keep it."
Wind howled across the tavern as he left.